


Tell Me When It Rains

by fleurofthecourt



Series: Rainbow Veins [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel and Mental Health Issues, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Depressed Castiel, Depression, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, they threw the devil back in his box and dragged Cas back to the surface. </p><p>And he <i>looks</i> like he’s in one piece -- on the outside. </p><p>But on the inside? </p><p>Well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me When It Rains

It occurs to Sam before it occurs to Dean: there has to be someone who knows _the life_ that can help an angel, or former angel, with a mental disorder. 

So, through some serious networking leg work, Sam comes up with the name of Mandy Owens, a psychiatrist in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

“Mandy’s wife, Carrie, was a widow...widower?” Sam shrugs. “Anyway, Carrie’s first wife died, on a shifter case. She got out after that. But, uh, she told Mandy everything, and Mandy wanted to help people _like us_. So she started taking people _like us_ as patients.” 

“People _like Cas_?” 

“It’s worth a shot, Dean. He needs help. He _really_ needs help.” 

And Dean definitely can’t argue with that. 

Because, sure, they threw the devil back in his box and dragged Cas back to the surface. 

And he _looks_ like he’s in one piece -- on the outside. 

But on the inside? 

Well... 

_Lincoln Center Psychiatry:_

  
_Provider: Mandy Owens, MD_  
_Patient: Castiel Novak-Winchester_  
_Diagnoses: Mood Disorders -- Major Depressive, Post Traumatic Stress_  
_Recommendations: Medication therapy, Talk therapy- Individual and Family_

And the last, and most important recommendation, comes from Dr. Owens when she pulls Dean into the hall as he finishes skimming Cas’ visit report. 

“Dean? A word?” 

“Yeah, Doc?” 

“You and your brother? Keep an eye on him.” 

Dean huffs. “Not very good at that. Might not even be here if I were...” 

“Maybe,” Dr. Owens peers thoughtfully at Dean over her rectangle frames. “Maybe not. But, beating yourself up? That’s not going to get you or him anywhere. Besides, from what he’s told me, you didn’t know...” 

“Yeah, well, I should have ...” 

Dr. Owens sternly cuts him off, “ _And_ you got him help when you did. Right now, though? He’s going to need you. Be there for him.” 

Before Dean can reply, Cas opens the office door and scans the hall. His eyes rest on Dean, somewhat fondly, but there’s almost nothing in them -- no unnervingly piercing gaze, no righteously angelic wrath; they're simply hollow husks of what they once were. 

Dean wants for Cas to have that luster back. He thinks Cas wants it too, even if he doesn’t know it yet. 

“Yeah, that's ...that's not going to be a problem.” 

XXX 

And it's not a problem -- at least, not in the Dean _wants_ to help Cas sense of things. In other ways, though, Dean’s squaring off with the kind of demons salt and devil’s traps are powerless against. 

Logistical things are the easiest to tackle. 

Lincoln isn’t exactly a hop, skip, and a jump from Lebanon but neither are the majority of their hunts. So Dean finds a motel a few miles away from Dr. Owen’s office and he, and Cas, and sometimes Sam, camp out there once a week. No big deal. 

Cas and medicine? 

That one’s a little trickier. 

First because the drug-addicted Castiel from Fake 2014 is permanently etched in Dean’s memory. He practically begs Dr. Owens to avoid prescribing narcotics for anything. And he’s still a little wary of the pills she promises have little to no risk of abuse. 

But, considering getting Cas to down an anti-depressant on a daily basis is something of a struggle, he really needn’t have worried. 

The morning after Cas’ first appointment, Dean sits down at the kitchen table with him and hands him a bagel smeared with peanut butter, a glass of orange juice, and a tablet of Citalopram. 

Cas picks up the tiny pink tablet and inspects it thoroughly before turning questioning eyes to Dean. “I don’t understand how this is going to help. I’m not ill. Not physically.” 

Dean scrubs a hand down his face. Because mentally ill? That’s still sick. 

And Dean’s not going to say he gets it. Because he definitely doesn’t. 

But he knows what Cas is like, and what Cas used to be like, and it’s absolutely not like this. 

And, from what Dr. Owens and Sam have told him, that tiny pink tablet is going to help Cas remember the confident, self-righteous jackass he used to be. And, okay, maybe that’s not exactly what Dean or Cas actually wants out of this, but finding some kind of middle ground between the Cas he first met and the Cas that keeps setting himself on fire to keep him and Sam warm? Well, that’d be a welcome change. 

Dean picks the tablet up, sets it in Cas’ hand and slowly lifts it to his mouth. “Come on, pal, need you to take the damn pill.” 

Cas does and, after he sets his orange juice back on the table, Dean lifts his hand back up and brushes his lips against his knuckles in silent thanks. 

After that, it’s simply a matter of remembering. 

And whether it’s because Cas doesn’t want to take them or because he honestly doesn’t remember he needs to, Dean’s the one that does the remembering. 

Which, in the beginning, when they’re still worried about leaving Cas alone in the bunker is not much of a problem. Dean makes breakfast and hands Cas his medicine. It becomes routine. 

But when they start hunting again, and digging up graves at 3 a.m and doing research until dawn becomes completely commonplace, routine kind of goes out the window.

Setting a reminder on his phone, as it turns out, is mostly just a good way to lure a pesky poltergeist out of the shadows of an unnaturally dark suburban basement. Sam spends twenty minutes stitching up a nasty gash on his shoulder after that plan goes belly up, and Dean hisses at Cas, between needle pricks, to dig the pill bottle out of his duffel. 

His next plan, fortunately, works a little bit better. 

Dean’s still nursing a bruised and battered shoulder when he and Cas are driving to Lincoln a few days later, and Cas keeps alternating between scrutinizing the contents of the glove compartment and side-eying Dean as he winces every time he has to make a turn. He’s squinting intently at the fake amulet the fanfiction fanatics gave them when Dean actually cries out on a particularly sharp left. 

“Dean, I could drive.” 

Dean grits his teeth. He really is in pain, but Cas hasn’t driven. In months. 

“There’s a gas station up ahead. You could stop.” 

And Cas has never driven his Baby. 

“I’m certain they’ll have pain medicine. I stocked it at the Gas N’ Sip often.” 

At that, he relents and pulls off. 

But it’s not until he’s knocking back more than the recommended dose of Tylenol that he remembers that Cas has his own medicine to take. He tosses it at him then looks down at the amulet that’s still lying on the seat. 

“Hey Cas, this, up here,” he tugs on it for emphasis as he hangs it on the rearview mirror, groaning heavily as his shoulder protests, and leans heavily against the bench, “means you took your meds.” 

Cas nods then hesitates before placing the keys in the ignition. “Are you alright?” 

“Peachy. Just peachy,” Dean says as he curls in on himself. His shoulder is absolutely killing him. And Cas can tell since he actually full on rolls his eyes before heading back for the road. 

A few miles later he turns to check on him while he’s trying to find a more comfortable position, “Dean, you didn’t have to come. I could have driven myself...” 

“Nope. Not going anywhere by yourself until the Doc tells me she’s giving you the okay.” 

Cas’ eyes flash with irritation. “Sam could have driven instead of you. He’s not injured.” 

And Dean doesn’t have a good answer for that. 

And his hesitation before trying to offer up a lame excuse leads Cas to speaking his mind, “Dean...I...I know it makes you uncomfortable...but I...I think...I think we should talk to Dr. Owens together again. She suggests that we do this as a family. We are family?” 

“Cas, come on, look down at your hand. You got a wedding band that says something stupidly sappy in Enochian, don’t you? I don’t get Sammy to look up that kind of crap for just anybody.” 

Cas nods contemplatively as Dean wishes patching up all their relationships could involve something a little more straightforward than talking about their feelings. 

Because dealing with the emotional baggage years worth of lies, love, miscommunication, misunderstandings, and sacrifice create? 

That's not even remotely in his wheelhouse. 

Or Sam’s. Or Cas’. 

And those are the real demons here. The ones they’re all doing their best to fight. 

“Remember what it says?” 

Cas smiles softly before whispering reverently, “I need you to stay here in this place with me because I love you.” 

But the important thing is, even though there’s no tried and true method for killing these beasts, they’re trying. 

“And, Cas, don’t you ever doubt that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you, dear reader, suffer from depression, you matter. You're really awesome. Really, a writer needs readers and you made it to this note. I'm so excited that you're here :D 
> 
> If you, dear reader, know anyone that is acting like Cas was in early s11 -- withdrawing from people (binging Netflix 24/7), voicing suicidal or self-deprecating thoughts, doing reckless things etc: TALK TO THEM.
> 
> AKF, YANA.


End file.
